


Aggravating Assault

by Smushed



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha!John, Alpha!Lestrade, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Cheating, Dominance, Fighting Kink, Handcuffs, Hormones, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mild non-con, Omega!Sherlock, PWP, Pheromones, Porn Without Plot, Possessive Behavior, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 20:58:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1361596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smushed/pseuds/Smushed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John was very controlled at first. He could handle Sherlock's heats, only just. He didn't mean to take him so forcefully, so suddenly, but Sherlock wasn't complaining. The detective had in fact, unbeknownst to John, been leaving traps for the Alpha on purpose around 221B. Such as his pants, soaked through with his Omega juices at the height of his heat, strewn on the kitchen floor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aggravating Assault

**Author's Note:**

> I say it is very mild non con, but if you have enquiries before reading about its content please ask me on tumblr at: smush-ed.tumblr.com I also take prompts, thank you.

John was very controlled at first. He could handle Sherlock's heats, only just. He didn't mean to take him so forcefully, so suddenly, but Sherlock wasn't complaining. The detective had in fact, unbeknownst to John, been leaving traps for the Alpha on purpose around 221B. Such as his pants, soaked through with his Omega juices at the height of his heat, strewn on the kitchen floor. He had been on contraceptive pills in waiting for John to fall into his traps. John was stuck in a rut, it had been too long, and Sherlock smelt of pure sex, untampered, sweet like spring breeze and warm like fresh baked bread, pink and heady and intense and...

 

" _Mine_." He said as he stood in Sherlock's bedroom doorway. Sherlock just whimpered in response, and although the detective wanted John more than anything, he had to make John possessive. Aggressively so. It was what Sherlock wanted from the moment in the lab ("Afghanistan or Iraq?") and what he did would have sent any Alpha near mad; as John stalked into Sherlock's room, shedding his clothing as he went and crawling up onto the bed, Sherlock, in response, curled his knees to his chest, used his ankles to shield his arse and clutched his knees with his arms. John narrowed his eyes, lip snarling upwards- his instincts had taken over, he was confused, he knew Sherlock wanted him so why was he being like this? John growled, but Sherlock had to stand his ground for a moment longer if he wanted John to fully lose himself. 

 

It was harder than Sherlock anticipated, the heats always took him full force when John was nearby. Painful cramps and an unyielding feeling of utter emptiness, the dying to be filled. He looked into John's lust-filled eyes, and John's chest was rising and falling quicker with each second. 

 

"Present." John commanded, Sherlock shook his head against his knees and John bared his teeth slightly.

 

"I said, _present!_ " He barked, and when Sherlock shook his head again John launched on top of him, making easy work of peeling the detective's legs away from his body and yanking his ankles down the bed. Sherlock mewled and gaped in pure satisfaction, yes, this possessive Captain was what he wanted, a strong alpha- Sherlock's eyes blew wide as John sank into him. The tight heat made the Alpha purr and grip Sherlock with bruising force, and Sherlock was making obscene moans desperately down John's ear. "God, John..." This is what he had always wanted.

 

Sherlock hadn't expected the sheer buzz of nerve endings being thrashed against by his flatmate. He was a mess of pure incoherent sounds, sounds that caused John to fuck him harder into the mattress, shameless as the headboard slammed against the wall. 

 

The ex-soldier's hands dug relentlessly into the meat of Sherlock's thighs and his mouth took that familiar pale neck neck and bit down. Sherlock howled and writhed beneath John who steadied him for a moment with slower and deeper thrusts, pleasuring Sherlock through the pain as their bond formed. The bite slowly numbed Sherlock until he grew warm (a feeling from his belly into his toes and heart and filled him with affection). John started to lick the wound and kissed it before he picked up his merciless pace, pounding the detective down until he was seeing stars. 

 

Then he begged, oh it was a sight for the ash-blond to behold, Sherlock rosy cheeked and stammering "P- please, knot me, John, I need your knot-" and when Sherlock felt the knot inflate he melted beneath, squirming until he adjusted to the immense swelling inside of him. "Mine..." John repeated as he fell on top of him and littered kisses all over his face, the ones on Sherlock's mouth lingered tenderly.

 

That heat left Sherlock unable to walk properly and his hips and thighs were pock-marked with a litter of purple and blue bruises from John's possessive fingertips. Sherlock loved it. This was better than he anticipated, John scented him every time they came home, pinning him against the wall and rubbing his face and mouth along Sherlock's flesh and clothing. And when they were out, John would snarl at any Alpha who stood nearby, even those that were trusted like Lestrade and Mycroft. 

 

But it was in John's nature, and it was a good thing, because not even Sherlock deduced what was going to happen one night after a case. It had been three months since they bonded, and three weeks since his last heat. He sat tapping his fingers restlessly against the arms of the chair, impatient for John; who was insistent that they eat well because he had a very tiring plan ahead for them in Sherlock's next heat, they needed 'shopping', for energy and nutrition and _dull_. 

 

He shut his eyes and inhaled through his nose, trying to steady the unpleasant roll in his gut. John's scent absent to keep the pain away. His jaw stiffened. John's body warmth absent to comfort his itching skin. His muscles tensed as his erection twitched away from the moisture gathering in his trousers. John's cock absent from his aching and oh so empty arse.

 

The door to their flat swung open and was slammed shut just as suddenly. The detective startled, _'John, yes my John back to take me-'_ he thought rapidly ascending from his seat and turning to dash into his arms, the cure to all his ailments, his Captain to look after him.

 

But the man who stood but two steps away wasn't John. 

 

Lestrade looked dishevelled, coat flung to the floor beside the shut door. Salt and pepper hair askew. Face stiff and flushed from the wind and what looked like the effort he exerted into throwing himself into the flat. Sherlock was befuddled. His omega instincts cried out for the inspector's strong hormones; his bond and loyalty to his blogger snarled at the unwelcome foreign alpha. 

 

The two of them stood staring, Lestrade was panting from his rush, Sherlock was breathing sharply through clenched teeth through his frustration. It wasn't John.

 

"What do you want?" Sherlock managed.

 

"Sherlock-" he began, but he physically had to stop himself, hold onto the back of the sofa for dear life, Sherlock briefly noted the white knuckle tension on his left hand. "God-"

 

"Leave." He interrupted, but it was as though Greg couldn't hear him.

 

"You smell... Fuck-" Lestrade inhaled slowly through his nose as his spine contorted from the pleasure that the beautiful scent induced.

 

"I said, _leave_. Gavin, you clearly came to 221B with good intentions but upon entering the flat and smelling my oncoming heat your intentions were abandoned, you could actually smell me from a block away and you thought entirely that you could control yourself but obviously you've proven yourself incapable of simple self control, even throwing your coat aside to-" He hissed, a particularly painful wave hit him, and it's arousal that followed was unbearable. Heats tended to become worse the longer contraceptives are taken, the Omega body desperate to carry a litter, but a heat with an alpha in the room was impossible. Or rather. Improbable.

 

"Listen, Sherlock-" Greg spoke, standing up and stepping closer to the detective, his slender frame looked perfect, he wanted to devour him and hold him at the same time, he could smell the lubricant seep from him, his mouth practically watered, what he wouldn't do just to _taste._ "You need-"

 

"I know what I  _need_ and what I  _need_ is for John to come home right now." Sherlock hissed, trembling, the closer Lestrade got the more his dark eyes lured Sherlock, the more steps the Inspector took the more Sherlock could see that tan skin and smell that musky hot scent that made his body want to collapse, wanted his hips to be grabbed and slammed upon someone's lap- but  _oh,_ what would John say? What would John  _do?_ Sherlock's brain ticked in a strange way during his heat, he wanted that possessiveness. What John growls and takes when he is angry or jealous. And this would take John's jealousy to a whole new level. He allowed the Inspector to prowl, not that that was a difficult thing to allow when he wanted to be filled so badly. 

 

"John isn't here though, is he?" Greg licked his lips as he finally came face to face with Sherlock. 

 

The room stilled.

 

Seconds felt like minutes until that mouth was upon Sherlock's and why did he taste so good? Hands took Sherlock's face before scrolling down his body and unbuttoning it, and Sherlock, although he knew he wanted John, was going to  _enjoy_ this, and the aftermath. (Certainly the aftermath). The skilled hand made easy work of his meticulous buttons before peeling it away, Greg growled as it was tossed to the side and that pale flesh was revealed to him, he mouthed along Sherlock's collarbone and pectorals and Sherlock could deduce that Lestrade had not had sex with an omega in months, perhaps a year, and his wife was a beta and this man had missed out. Sherlock's sweat tasted like the best addictions in the world, his body smelt of something he would happily drown in, and the sounds that Sherlock whimpered made Greg so hard it hurt. 

 

The Inspector unbuttoned Sherlock's trousers and rolled them down with his pants until Sherlock was naked. 

 

"Look at you, you're fucking gorgeous." He groaned, gripping Sherlock and pushing him until he was at the sofa, and then pushing him again so he was on his knees. He gripped Sherlock's hair and pressed his head into the cushions, parting the detective's legs with his knee. Sherlock allowed himself to be manoeuvred, and then it dawned on him that perhaps this was going too far. He went to sit up but Lestrade pushed his head down harder. "No, Sherlock, let me, you'll feel amazing-" He bargained, but Sherlock shuffled again and that was when he heard a clink and then felt the handcuffs snap his wrists to the small of his back. "I said  _let me."_

 

Sherlock went weak at the knees, he loved being wanted, people being desperate for him and when he heard that voice and felt those cuffs he whined, wriggling his arse. "Please-" He murmured and he felt two hands at his arse, the thumbs gently parting his cheeks, he felt the chill from the moisture of his lubricant and it made him gasp and whimper, he went to beg again and he felt a tongue.

 

Lestrade tasted Sherlock's arse, licked from his perineum and up his seam to the top before tracing back down and stalling at his hole, letting his tongue swirl, letting Sherlock's scent and juice cover his face, he tasted him and tasted him again, tongue pressing at his entrance, kissing it, he was almost snogging the detective's arse and it made Sherlock's back arch and his vocals were running free with sounds he needed to make. But he needed more, and  _now._

 

The door slammed open and shut a second time, but neither of them moved. Lestrade was so intoxicated by Sherlock's scent and licking his arse hungrily that when John came in and wrenched him away by the collar he was stunned. 

 

"What the  _fuck_ are you doing?!" He roared, he had managed bring Lestrade to his feet in one swift movement. Sherlock rolled to his side, hands uncomfortably pinned behind him as he leaned on the couch, but he needed to watch this. 

 

Lestrade went to answer but licked his lips in response, Sherlock was  _all over him._ John snarled and punched him in the face once, and when Greg was knocked back from the movement John straddled him and pinned the inspector's hands either side of his head and licked his face, his mouth, making his tongue lick up Lestrade's cheek and nose. He was mopping up his mate's scent from Greg's face. Greg was growing more agitated, John was replacing Sherlock's sweet scent with his own. The omega juices being replaced with another alpha's saliva. John pinned Greg's face by holding his head, and Sherlock got more than he ever dreamed, watching his mate possessively lick away his scent from another Alpha was the most arousing thing he had ever witnessed. Greg was angry now, and had managed to shake John off quickly to get to his feet but John swept his legs from under him. 

 

Sherlock moaned, and both alpha's diverted their gaze to him. He was wriggling on the floor, for any type of friction, it was useless, the carpet below his bare arse becoming wet with his leaking hole. Lestrade went to go to Sherlock and John grabbed him by the scruff and shoved him against the wall, punching him again before kneeing him in the solar plexus. Alpha's couldn't accept defeat easily, so John made it easy for him. He took him and actually threw him out of their flat door, kicking his coat out after him and blocking the door with a chair, he didn't have time to take care of Greg now, not when Sherlock was so desperate.

 

He wandered over to his mate, who lay debauched on the floor.

 

"Did he fuck you?" John demanded, and when Sherlock didn't answer right away John knelt beside him so their faces were inches away. "I need to know  _right now_ if he fucked you." He hissed, and Sherlock shook his head. "Good." John barked, but he was still raw, angry, jealous that anyone would touch his omega. He sat on the couch, and Sherlock couldn't see where he was sat but he heard John unzip himself and shuffle his clothing down.

 

"Please..." Sherlock managed, it was breathy, he was feeling faint, more than desperate now, he felt he needed John more than he needed to breathe.

 

Two hands gripped Sherlock's bare hips and hauled him easily into his lap so the detective's back was facing John, and Sherlock moaned before even being penetrated. "Do you know what you even  _do_ to me?" John chanted, picking Sherlock up again and settling him so that his thighs were splayed wide over the doctor's own legs, and using his hips to position the head of his cock at Sherlock's hole, his hands in full control of where and when Sherlock was going to be fucked. "Sherlock- beg me, how much do you want my cock? How much do you need it?" At need he had gently let the head of his cock slip inside and Sherlock melted, cuffed hands struggling to grip anything they could reach. 

 

"Pl- John,  _God,_ I need you, you're the only alpha I need, the only alpha that can knot me and fill me and fuck me, God, _please_ fuck me, I want to be fucked so hard, I don't care if I bleed, John please- please fuck me-" He whispered frantically and it was cut short when he sank completely in John's lap, his arse reached John's thighs and his body curled at the penetration. Neither of them were going to last long today. 

 

"Good." John hummed, before picking Sherlock up again and this time coming up with his hips and slamming into him, just once. Sherlock shook his head, this wasn't enough, never enough, he needed bruises and marks and anything to make him feel owned. John smiled against Sherlock's shoulder, kissing it once. "Alright, I've got you." He brought them both up and spun so Sherlock was kneeling on the sofa cushions and his face was pressed to the back of the couch, and this was a position where John could have him hard. He gripped the front of Sherlock's thighs and lay into him, and Sherlock moaned as he felt all the pleasure, each slam brought him up and up closer to the edge. He was so slippery, John almost slipped out twice. 

 

The sound of flesh on flesh, wetness as skin slid together and moans filled the air, a stewing of scents and a brewing of two men who couldn't live without each other grappling for anything they could get, John was going harder, he was sweating, clothes stuck to him, the sounds were being shoved out of Sherlock with each slam as the breath was knocked out of him by John's competent and strong hips. Their moans grew louder, and when John reached one hand up to touch Sherlock's cock he spoke.

 

"John, I need your knot, please- I want it, fill me-" His mouth was dry from panting and when John pumped him twice, Sherlock came and then John finally stilled his hips they both felt the swell and lock of their bodies as John emptied, so much come that some managed to trickle out before he pulled away. They gained some breath back, almost high from inhaling too much oxygen, light headed and blissed out through orgasm. John snapped one link of the cuffs with some of his excess energy from the adrenalin that Lestrade caused to spike and keeping hold of Sherlock so neither of them shuffled during a knot he sat down and made Sherlock sit in his lap again. The detective was grateful to have movement of his arms once more as he let them fall to his side, and John held them as Sherlock leaned back onto his chest. 

 

"Don't you ever do that again." John murmured, closing his eyes.

 

"If you fuck me like that, I'll do it as often as I'd like." Sherlock was supposed to sound petulant, arrogant, but he was too spaced out, he sounded tired. 

 

"I mean it. You're mine."

 

"Of course."


End file.
